jump with the moon
by mahreemari
Summary: Seeing her at work every day, he really likes her. Really, really likes her.
1. you've just been thinking

Morning starts as they always have with the alarm on his clock ringing loudly and him kicking the sheets off of his body with an annoyed groan, immediately regretting as the cold air chills him. He scratches his side lazily as he slips on his slippers, wriggling his toes as he shuts off the bell. He pads his way to his bathroom, lifting his long legs over dirty clothes and strewn papers and trash alike.

He readies in a flash, brushing his teeth as he showers, drying his hair as he dresses, his fingers slipping the buttons on his shirt, fastening his trousers with a belt, even putting on cufflinks without much thought.

Stuart looks over the mirror, taking in his black eyes, the bags shadowing his skin from his lack of sleep. He sweeps a hand through his blue hair with a sigh, bringing his arms through the sleeves of his suit jacket and adjusting his tie. He wraps up in a thicker coat, a wool scarf coming along with as he makes his way out of his place, briefcase in hand, locking the door without a word, his thoughts coming to think about upcoming cases.

Out of the complex, he hails a cab, long arm attracting attention and enters the cabbie, directions to his law firm spoken, and then the door closes and the wheels turn and they start making way into morning traffic.

* * *

Familiar faces of coworkers greet him tiredly, trudging their feet to clock in and settle at their desks and offices when the head secretary speeds in, calling for a small assembly in a few minutes.

Along the others who shuffle their things away, they make it to the modest break room, their boss smiling at the center, his hands coming together in a loud clap.

"Alright folks, good morning!"

"Good morning, sir," some voices reply, his own joining tiredly from the back.

"I just wanted to let everyone know I've brought in a few new hires. With Martha retiring and Charles and Julie on maternity leave, I have decided to get some new blood, so if you see some new people, don't be alarmed. That's all."

As Stuart turns to leave, the older man speaks out once more.

"Mr. Pot and Ms. Cracker, might I have a word?"

And so he stays.

* * *

He and Paula walk together behind their boss as they crossed over the floor to the elevator to rise up a few levels to his office.

"Of the new hires, I have gotten a new paralegal. She'll be under Paula mostly but she'll be assisting you occasionally as well, Stu. Will that be alright?"

He felt Paula glance up at him, her glasses gleaming under the fluorescent light, Stuart gave her a stiff grin before looking away.

"That's fine," he said, as they reached the door.

Their boss planted his hand on his door knob, twisting it to open, allowing Paula and himself to enter in first, Stuart grabbed the closing door without much word and entered in as well, turning to close the door properly. Swiveling his head, he spots a new figure seated next to Paula on one of the four guest chairs in front his boss' main desk.

He crossed over, taking her in as she too, stood up. He lifted his hand to give her a firm handshake, needing to crane his neck down to look her in the eyes. She was petite, dark hair in a in a messy bob, though not unsightly, he thought of it as fetching, especially with the way it curled around her, framing her face, cheeks slightly rosy, probably due to the cold season.

He looked at her limpid eyes, green and clear, like little precious stones.

"Stuart Pot," he said, feeling his face warm as his lips curled up into a welcoming grin, "and you?"

The younger lady's cheeks warmed once more, her eyes flittering to her shoes before coming back up to meet his, she tucked a lock behind her ear before raising her own small hand to touch his.

"I'm-"

"Paula Cracker!"

The lady's hand was quickly grabbed and covered by Paula, blocking Stuart's own hand, the long red nails bright against her skin as she shook the girl's hand vigorously.

Stuart dropped his hand back down to his side, taking the last available seat, feeling slightly down.

* * *

They discussed structure and obligation and expectations, she in turn, gave her name and told them to call her Noodle instead.

Then work began like a flurry.

* * *

His client takes a long drag of his cigarette, the puffing smoke curling in the air; his feet kicked up on his desk, boots dirtying the corner of the mahogany wood.

Stuart waves the paper lethargically towards the guy, tired of him.

"You know, it would be a lot nicer if you stayed out of trouble."

"Yeah? Well it would be nicer if you weren't so fucking ugly, mate, but you don't see me complaining now do you?"

Stuart wiped at his face, bringing the skin down slight. They had been at this for hours.

"Come on Muds, work with me for a bit."

"You've already got two knocks on the head from me, what's one more to another person?"

Stuart glared at the star, annoyance blatant on his youthful face.

"Look 'D, I may have taken out your eyesballs but me and you – we got something good going on yeah? I fuck around and you bail me out. I get out of jail and you get paid top dollar."

Just as he opens his mouth to retort, a soft knock raps at the door, and Stuart sits straighter, fixing his collar as he tells the other party from the other side of the door to enter with a clear voice.

In peeks a heeled foot, a tray with two steaming cups of tea, then finally, emerging in full, with all her loveliness and glory, came in Noodle. She enters in quietly, a tiny smile on her face as she greets him and Murdoc, whose eyes were glued to her backside unabashed.

"The others told me you bring some refreshments since you've been at it for a while," she told him, leaning over his desk slightly to switch out his long drained cup from the morning, her bangles clicking from her movement, the collar of her top slipping down to expose her collarbone.

He felt the tips of his ears burn as his vision flickered down to her smooth skin for a second before looking back up to her, clearing his throat, he thanked her, moving the cup closer.

She turned, moving to switch out Murdoc's drink without a word as the celebrity flashed her a schmoozing grin.

Her shoes clacked against the floor as she made way to leave, Noodle pushed the door that she had left ajar and gave them a crisp nod, her short hairs flouncing, before closing the door.

Then Murdoc looked at him, a lewd expression on his green face, as he raised his cup in question.

"Anyway, about that new office bird-"

"No."

Murdoc blinked, sitting the cup down, suddenly silent, a bemused brow quirked. He took another drag from his cigarette, long and slow, creating a pregnant pause as he eyed his lawyer.

"Alright."

Stuart had never objected him so fast before.

The conversation moved on then, taking a break from the atmosphere, they spoke of actresses and songstresses and whatnot, hearing the messy and juicy details from behind the scenes.

Stuart lifted up his cup, taking in a sip, and feeling himself become slightly more awake at the peppermint tea, his eyes catching some letters from below. On the dish, hidden from under the hot cup, green ink written with neat handwriting on a flowery sticky note, read a message that made him smile.

 _[Thanks for the hard work!~]_

* * *

She's handing him the stack of papers, flashing the pale skin of her wrist from under her thick woolen sweater, her pink lips picking up at the corners when he thanks her and the words die at his throat as her eyes crinkle like crescent moons, the tips of their fingers brushing, zapping him, and suddenly she's gone, eyelashes fluttering with a wink and a smirk, twisting out the door.

The papers fall out of his loose grip and slip messily onto his desk.

He smacks his face with a groan, the heel of his hand ramming against his forehead.

"Fucking crazy," his whispered, flopping over his desk, eyeing the shadow of her silhouette pass by his door through the blinds.

He thinks about her, the tight pencil skirt hugging her hips and the gloss of her pink lipstick, the way her white teeth shone like pearls when she smiled and the way her green eyes sparkled like gems.

He thinks about her touch, if you could call it that, the way their fingers bumped quick. Warmth coiled inside of him - her hands were so soft.

'Bet she's soft everywhere'

He mentally screeched, cutting off the thought, his hands whacking himself again until he tired and his arms covered his head, feeling a blush overtake him.

"Fucking crazy."

* * *

He makes his way inside a cafe, the lights lows and the music playing smoothly in the background. He greets the staff, finding a seat at the back and adjusts himself comfortably before taking papers out to peer over.

Moments later, a light clink sounds from the table and he looks up with a smile.

"Hey Russel."

He's known Russel for many years, from when they were young and Russel had moved from the United States to his ramshackle hometown to attend school after becoming blind and wanted a change of pace. He remembers Russ throughout the years, navigating around with ease, opening the cafe had been his dream and once he got it, he built it up and made a name for himself. Now it's been several years and here he was, the proud owner of something famous - Stuart was happy to call himself an original patron.

Stuart picks up the cup as the big man takes his time on sitting down, the black tray also following down with a clack. He brings the cup up to his face, taking in a deep whiff, the aroma strong and bitter and a little bit of something he can't name.

"New flavor?"

Russel nods his head, his baritone low as ever to his ears, "I've been trying new things these days."

He takes a sip then, his eyes closing at the warmth, taking in the bitterness of the coffee and smiling when a hint if sweetness makes it to the back of his teeth. He's always preferred tea but Russ is good at what he does and doesn't disappoint.

"I added a bit of caramel and some honey..."

Stuart continues to listen as Russ begins to speak in food jargon, the unfamiliar words flying over his head, but he's happy to hear it anyway as he watches Russ speak animatedly, talking with his hands and showing Stuart the invisible process only Russel could see and understand.

Time flies and by the time the workers are saying goodbye to him and their boss, Stu begins to pack up as well, slipping his documents into his briefcase, waiting as Russ sweeps around the back to grab his things, calling for his sight dog, Del to come out from wherever he was.

He waits on the side as Russel locks the cafe doors, looking up at the now dark sky and making out the faint peppering of stars. They begin to walk down the street, chatting about nonessential things before Russ switches up the topic onto him.

"So what about you? How was your day?"

Stuart pauses, pursing his lips as the day rolls back to him, the mess of clients, specifically his oldest and reoccurring one, pops up.

"Well there was Murdoc for one thing."

"Again?" Russel snorted, knowing the guy.

"Of course, old man doesn't know when to stay out of it. Also... " Stuart tapped his chin thoughtfully as they crossed the street, nighttime traffic growing before them, "there was a new paralegal that was brought into the firm."

"What she like?"

Stuart's steps stumble when he catches the curb at Russel's question and coughs, memories of Noodle coming up, the sound of her voice circulating in his ears from when they spoke earlier in the morning, so light and airy that it made him just a bit breathless for a moment.

"She's..."

He rubs his neck, trailing off, feeling bashful all of the sudden, a slight smile shying itself onto his face, unable to find it in himself to describe her in words; he felt thankful that Russ couldn't see his expression.

They bid farewell for the night, leaving each other in opposite directions of their complex. Once home, Stuart messes with some more work, crawling into bed a few hours later. He closes his eyes and immediately finds himself lost in slumber, dreaming of nothing in particular.

No. That's a lie.

In his dreams, he sees green eyes and dark hair and pink, pink lips that smiled at him.


	2. you've got to press it on you

Stuart finds that things start as quickly as a blink of an eye. A blink was all it took to make friends with the transfer student that didn't care about the blue of his hair from when he was young and insecure, a blink sees his parents age and his nana pass away, a blink is a car crashing through a café window hurtling into his face and two-fold when the perpetrator is serving time to care for him, a blink is him in law school studying hard, a blink is him wearing his badge polished bright as he enters the court house for the first time. A blink is walking into his boss' office in the winter morning, when the air was cold and the starts were dull.

A blink is when he sees her.

A blink is her in the mornings, greeting him with a smile as they clock in, when she's scurrying around the office in a flurry of quick steps when Paula works her, when she's talking quick and decisive, laugh crisp, cracking like a whip through the phone when someone tough crosses her. A blink is her bashful grin, triumphantly coy, a shimmering sheen in her eyes when she sips her drink and finds hot chocolate instead of everyone else's coffee from when he treats the office a week before holiday break. A blink is them crossing paths in the office, meeting eyes and polite smiles, gentle touches when papers pass between the tips of their fingers, little notes under peppermint tea, the flush of skin when she huffs in the cold air and the brightness of her aura when the season blends and she's blooming under the sun.

A blink is him looking for her when she enters the copy room, when he hears her laugh playfully from a coworker's joke, when he looks forward in the mornings despite the petty shit Murdoc is surely to put him through as he had done as a basis of principal.

A blink is him, burning deep in his chest so consumed in the night that it leaves him weak in the knees when he thinks of her to torture him once more.

A blink starts many things.

A blink in motion in Spring when the pollen count is high and his bad eyes are itchy and dry and she's suddenly there in his office hovering over him.

A blink is him finding her all around.

A blink starts him.

A blink of which creates them.

Stuart is very thankful that he is able to blink.

* * *

Springs melts away the winter grasp and like a tulip, she stands out in his vision like a shock of color in his system, bright like the glittering reflection water shines from under the morning sunrise.

* * *

She brushed the hair from his brow once more as he sighs from the brilliant sun spotting him in the eye through the window by the mischievous rays.

"All finished, Mr. Pot," she smiles, her petal pink lips curving up, her charming white hinting out.

He finds his breath quickening, his mouth numb as if filled with cotton balls, a whisper so quiet he isn't sure if she could hear him.

But then she brightens, more blinding than the sun, rouge painting her cheeks and the corner of her eyes again like crescents bending over her loveable cheekbones, hair cradling the line of her jaw, slipping around the slope of her neck. She shines him with her beam and his heart is pounding out of his chest so dangerously hard that he wonders if she could see it there thumping against his ribcage, flustered and flummoxed. He wonders for a split second if his heart would jump out and gift itself to her. Like a doll, how charming her hand is in his skin, like satin caressing, and a gentle coo blowing for only his ears to hear.

"Stuart."

In a blink, he knows.

* * *

He's waving an aide away for the night when a yawn escapes him and with a slightly dejected sigh, he peers down at his empty mug in his hand. The work day had ended quickly, sending those off without further ado. That applied to him as well, or so he had wished, grumbling at the hefty stack of papers in his clutch. Thanks to his frequent client, he was often not without work. Murdoc was, to say the least, a disaster that only being described as a burning dumpster fire filled with cow manure would possibly do him a slight justice. He had somehow found a way to smuggle a goat from the nearby zoo, riding on top of the pitiful thing around the city in a shoddy attempt to play polo, only to have swung the mallet against the bald head of an officer in a mistaken attempt to 'keep the ball rolling' or so he told him.

* * *

He spies a shadow in the dimly lit breakroom as he enters, the loud sound of the building's tea kettle going off in a steaming shriek, he pastes a friendly smile on his face as he steps into the small kitchenette.

"Got enough for-"

"Oh!"

Noodle's girlish voice exclaimed her shock in a high pitch making him wince in his own surprise, taking a sudden breath, he watched her widened eyes blink around the room, her lips pursing close, refusing to look at him as her cheekbones turned rosy.

"I apologize," she says after the pause, her hands fiddling with her cup, her manicured nails plinking placidly against the red painted ceramic.

He is quick to stop her, it was his fault anyway, "Don't be! You didn't do anything wrong and I scared you. I should be sorry, it really late and all the lights are off and it's really quiet and your back was turned and I could've made you burn yourself and-"

His voice tapers off, realizing he had been rambling, lowering his arm in shame as he also notes that he had been waving it around with his own cup still in held tight in his hand like a deranged lunatic. The silence comes up again and he wants to toss himself inside the bin like the rubbish he was for the awkwardness he had created. He locks his eyes at his shoes, tracing the brown leather as if it were interesting, a thought forming quick when he sees the rim of his cup, lifting it back up, showing her the navy blue.

"A drink! Let me make you a drink, with the kettle."

"Oh that's not-"

Her pretty mouth parts as he steps closer, he sets his papers down before moving to the kettle and pouring the hot water in his cup before looking back at her, he splays his hand out, gesturing to her, his eyes flickering at the candy-like gloss of her lips for a split second, "I insist."

* * *

Noodle hums in a quick thought before letting him take the mug, she watches him from behind, eyes tracing his form, discovering that his shoulders were surprisingly broad as his long arms move to open the cabinet, turning slight to open their fridge and pulling out something she couldn't see. She hears the drawer roll open, liquid being poured at the same time and soon the pings of the breakroom's metal spoons against a cup; paper tearing rips between and a plop sounds when he swivels around suddenly, the same shy smile she has come to link him to, present once more.

"It's probably still hot but it's done," he lifts his drink, the steam coming off, then turns the pick back up his files, the papers rustling under his arm.

"That's about it for me; I have to get back to work. Goodnight Noodle."

* * *

He scrambles to his office as quickly as he could, trying not to yelp when some of his tea spills over the rim and scalds his fingers.

* * *

He sleeps that night alone, head resting in his arms, grasping at empty straws when he tries to chase the afternoon's tender dream once more.


End file.
